


Harry Potter and the Steel Mage

by megyal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: HP: EWE, Hitwizards, M/M, Monsters, Obliviators, Superheroes, Unspeakables
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:07:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1501280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, there's no such thing as a superhero, no matter what the Muggle media claims… but maybe there is, and maybe everyone needs to be saved somehow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry Potter and the Steel Mage

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the mods for their organization of this fest and their infinite patience! It's one of my fave fests; to the prompter, fyernaice: I tried. I couldn't get in all the parts of your prompt, but I got something in. Beta'ed by A and M.
> 
> ETA: HEYYYY brightandred@tumblr did some fanart for this! [HERE IT IS!!](http://brightandred.tumblr.com/post/162097318838/youre-perfectly-right-aegis-laughed-outright)

This whole Walpurgis Collective situation really messed with Harry Potter's life-plans, that was for sure. To pile insult atop stinging injury, they nearly damn well killed him on his first day back to work. His team had been battling a member of the Collective aptly called Crossfire, and it had been rough, to say the very least. It was so intensely disappointing, he told himself; not very helpful for one's self-esteem. 

He lay there on a soft surface, keeping his eyes firmly shut as a headache drummed back and forth across the bridge of his temples. An ache in his right shoulder set up a counter-rhythm, where a nasty spell had clawed at the heavy material of his Auror-issue cloak. Whatever that spell had been, it had melted through layers of protective charms and had been barely stopped by the thin hex-proof vest made from discarded Horntail scales.

 _Fuck_ the Walpurgis Collective, he mused with a species of bitter bemusement.

"Harry. I think you should take these," a voice murmured from somewhere on his left and Harry jerked upwards into a sitting position, squinting in the gloom. His head and shoulder informed him that a sudden move like that was extremely ill-advised, and he should refrain from doing so in the near future. He groaned and reached up to probe gingerly at the deeply bruised muscle. His skin seemed to cringe away from his own touch.

His glasses sat askew on his nose and he adjusted it with a sharp shove. That didn't quite help much, because although he could see that he was in a low bed in the middle of a narrow room with no windows, he couldn't make out the features of the person who had addressed him. They wore a form-fitting black costume, the sleeves of which were absent, revealing muscled arms. Their head and face were covered completely with dark material so that no distinguishing features were on display; mirrored lenses covered the eyes, slanting up at the outer corners. As the person stepped forward, holding out two slender vials, the heavy cloth of their uniform shifted over long, strong-looking legs.

Harry sighed, even as he felt his lips lifting into a wry smile. He knew this fellow, as much as one could be acquainted with a person who insisted on wearing a mask all the bloody time; Harry's current major assignment was to discover the identity of this disguised man, deemed a 'superhero' by Muggles.

Three months ago, this individual had rescued Harry from the Walpurgis Collective; today, he had done it once more. An interesting pattern, that.

"Hello again," Harry said now. He held out one hand, palm upward. The other man remained still for a long beat, and then stepped forward to place the slender containers of potion in the middle of Harry's hand. The man's cold fingers brushed Harry's palm; the skin of his digits, just like his exposed arms, seemed to be made of joined segments of gleaming metal.

 _Britain's Iron Man_ ; _The Armoured Shadow_ : those were the titles given to this enigma by the Muggle media, and they weren't half bad at all, really. In the Wizarding papers, he was called _The Steel Mage_ , because some idiot in the Auror Division had shared the speculation that this superhero was really a wizard in disguise. A wizard out there saving Muggles with magic; _that_ was against the Statute of Secrecy, and therefore this individual was subject to prosecution by the Wizengamot. 

But the Steel Mage was _saving lives_ ; he was _helping_ the Aurors combat the Walpurgis Collective. That was, in Harry's humble opinion, more important than breaking the Statute.

Harry opened the vial with the thick blue potion and tipped it to his lips. It had a slightly bitter flavour and he grimaced.

"My potioneer hasn't managed to adjust that," the man told him, voice deep and muffled by his mask. His tone emerged with an amused tint at Harry's contorted expression. "The other one is better."

"It is," Harry agreed after he swallowed down the one with the faint pink hue; the taste of it was lightly sweet. His headache faded away almost completely, and the ache in his shoulder dialled down from a harsh roar to a sulky mumble. He let the empty vials fall to the surface of the bed at his side, and shuffled back a bit so that he could lean against the stone wall. "Cheers to your potioneer."

"I'll pass on your regards," the other man said, taking a seat on a nearby chair; it creaked under his weight. He crossed his legs, folded his arms and simply regarded Harry for a very long time. Harry gazed at him as well; he had no idea what the other man was thinking. All he could see was his own reflection, doubled in the reflective lenses of the man's mask.

"Aren't you going to tell me your name?" Harry finally asked. He tilted his head and tried to project harmlessness. The man gave off an unimpressed air. "I mean, I'm in your bed, mate. I think by this point I've earned the privilege. You know mine, don't you?"

The man let out a sharp amused huff. " _Everyone_ knows your name. I call myself Aegis," he said. "Although, really, I don't mind all the other titles."

"They're nice," Harry agreed. " _Aegis_ has a real professional ring to it, I must admit. What does it mean?"

"Look it up," Aegis answered, not unkindly. "You're bright enough, aren't you?"

"Not as bright as you," Harry countered, a small smile lifting one side of his mouth. "Shiny skin and all. Not the best choice for camouflage, I'd wager."

"There's a _reason_ I'm called the Armoured Shadow, you know," Aegis said, and he sounded as if he was holding back laughter. "I'm not half-bad at concealment charms."

Harry grinned at that. He grew slowly sober again, still staring at Aegis's masked face. "After we take care of the Collective, we'll be fully focused on you. You _do_ know that, right?" Harry didn't need to tell this man that he'd been assigned to discover his identity. He had the feeling that Aegis already knew.

Aegis made no movement, didn't shift any of his limbs, but his amused air had completely dissipated, like mist in the morning. "The Collective is too much for the Aurors to 'take care of'. They're… _brutal_." 

"I know." Harry took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, letting his head thump gently against the wall behind him. He was well aware of the violent capabilities of the Walpurgis Collective. The fact that they were 'inspired' by Voldemort was not much of a surprise.

Not at all.

\--

"We are," the woman with the glowing red eyes said, "the Walpurgis Collective, dedicated to the advancement of _homo magus_. We are the natural progression, you see. The next step in evolution of mankind."

"Oh, I know what I see," Harry responded. "I see a bunch of terrorists and murderers, _that's_ what I see."

His words were bold, yes, but his voice was weak, faint. His own saliva tasted like old metal on his tongue. At least he was still alive, suspended by his wrists within a rusty steel cage; the fine chains bit against his skin, and he had no idea where his wand could be. There were a few dark splotches some distance away on the bare concrete floor. It looked like blood.

Harry's gaze kept dragging towards that spot with reluctant fascination; possible evidence of another person he couldn't save. There were supposed to be a couple of other Auror teams nearby this abandoned warehouse, but Harry didn't know where they were right now. This had been a trap, and a well-planned one. 

To the casual observer, the Walpurgis Collective seemed to have bloomed out of nowhere, like a noxious patch of poisonous weeds. They had been responsible for no less than twelve attacks on Muggles in the past week. For the Aurors, there had been evidence of their growing criminality for quite some time. In addition to the Collective, there'd been reports of _another_ individual involved in the attacks; reports from Muggles had described a man dressed in black clothing, before the Obliviators did their careful erasure of memories. Head Auror Robards had assigned Harry to investigate that particular person, but the Collective's activities had escalated drastically, requiring the attention of nearly the entire division.

Now, here Harry hung, curse-worn and battered, at the mercy of the Walpurgis Collective. The woman with the burning gaze smiled at him. 

"Voldemort had the right idea," she declared. "We are superior in every way to _homo sapien_ —"

"He was _Muggleborn_ ," Harry said and she twitched her wand. A red spell shot from the tip of her wand, striking Harry's sternum. He coughed so hard that his ribs seemed to scrape the insides of his chest, but still he managed to wheeze out: "Just so you know."

"I know," she said, in a tightly controlled fashion. "The Collective recognizes the power possessed by any Muggleborn as proof as their higher advancement. But we shall not hide our authority behind any veil of secrecy. Not anymore."

Harry's chest burned as if it was filled with glowing embers. He glanced around the room, at the high-ranking members of the Walpurgis Collective staring at him. Magic poured off their bodies in palpable waves. There were about four other individuals in this dimly lit room, not counting the woman with the red eyes. They all considered him with a cool curiosity. 

"Voldemort's mistake," the woman continued, "was that he was fixated on _you_ , Harry Potter. That was his downfall. It will not be _ours_."

Harry had something very clever in mind as a retort, because if it was one thing he thought he was rather fair at, it was clever retorts. He inhaled, a deep, stinging breath, and parted his lips.

The wall behind him collapsed.

Well, it was struck down, if one wanted to be precise. Harry managed to turn his head a little, peering over his shoulder. A man dressed in black stood there, the dust settling around his tall form.

"Who dares—" the woman with the red eyes began, her voice spiralling up into a screech. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw as she stumbled back. He turned his head back around again, staring in disbelief. The man had moved, but so fast that Harry hadn't seen him traverse from one side of the room to the other to strike her. One of the woman's companions caught her before she landed on the ground, but the black-clad man was already there, looming over them. He managed to _kick them_ , booted feet striking both at once. The two of them slammed against the opposite wall.

It was kind of hilarious, the way they slid down the brickwork. Harry chuckled, and spat blood.

"Alright there, Harry Potter?" his rescuer called up to him as he dodged curses and hexes from the remainder of the Collective. A few struck him, but he had metal for skin, and apparently it was _charmed_ metal.

"I'm doing well. Just hanging about," Harry croaked. "That bloke's there's about to cast a Bonebreaker. If that's, you know, important to you and all."

His rescuer dodged the spell even as Harry spoke and raced over to the man who had thrown it. Harry felt a thrill of delight from watching him throw these members of the Collective around with ease. As they lay around, groaning angrily, the man in black rushed towards the cage in which Harry was suspended. He spread his arms and gripped the two front legs of the cage, then clenched his fists; the metal snapped. The entire cage tipped backwards and Harry's feet touched the ground. He collapsed, sure that he wouldn't be able to stand up, his arms still trapped within chains. Harry closed his eyes as he heard the chains being shattered, and then the man swept him up into powerful arms before he could fall flat on his face.

"Bit much for a first date, this," Harry muttered as the man carried him out. The air was shockingly cool and his lungs burned. "I don't even _know you_. Maybe you should tell me your name, eh?"

"You're more amusing that you appear at first glance," his liberator told him, and the wind around them seemed to increase and grow colder. Harry cracked open one eyelid and then raised his eyebrow. They were a lot higher up in the air than he'd thought. The city sprawled out far beneath them, a collection of lights piercing through the oily mist.

"We're flying," Harry pointed out, and coughed heavily. "Flying without a broom is a thing, now?"

"It's a thing to get you to St. Mungo's as fast as I can," the man answered. Harry's head rested against his chest; he could feel the rumble of the man's deep voice against the curve of his shoulder. "Apparating you with your lungs like that isn't exactly _done_."

"You probably don't know how to Apparate, anyway." Harry's voice was now a tortured wheeze. "Or you _did_ know, and your skin-armour kind of negates that."

"Smarter than you look, too," the man said in a contemplative fashion.

"You are in contravention of the Statute of Secrecy. I'm going to have to arrest you, sir," Harry informed him, as sternly as he could manage. "According to reports, you have exposed Muggles to the existence of magic. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence—"

"Scratch that last thing I said," the man said. He banked sharply to the right and picked up speed as another fit of coughing wracked Harry's body. "Maybe it's best if you stop talking."

"-- if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court," Harry continued with faint determination. "Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

"Frankly, this is the best arrest I've ever had," the man told him as he landed lightly in front of the dilapidated building which served as the entrance to St. Mungo's. "I'm sure the next one will not measure up to this experience. Send up a Healer right away," he said and for a moment Harry was confused before he realised that his rescuer had addressed the mannequin behind the grimy shop window.

With great gentleness, he set Harry down on the floor, arranging his limbs in a comfortable fashion. Chilly metal fingers brushed away his sweaty hair from his forehead, touched lightly at his jaw, and then one of the man's hands splayed flat over Harry's heart. Harry breathed as deeply as his lungs allowed, letting his chest press up into that big palm.

"You're going to be alright, Harry Potter," he said. "They'll be up in a minute."

Harry put a hand right over his and opened his eyes, staring up into the shadowed face above him. "You saved my life. Thank you. I'll have to drag you before the Wizengamot another time, yeah?"

"Sounds like a second date to me," the man answered. He seemed to be smiling, but Harry couldn't quite tell through that dark material which covered his face completely. With a flurry of displaced air, he was gone. 

\--

"You're pouting," Aegis murmured in Harry's ear, his voice shaking with laughter. "Not a good look on you."

"Is the blindfold _really_ necessary?" He had his arms around Aegis's neck as they sped through the air, Harry safe in the cradle of his arms. 

Aegis said, "It's necessary, yes. Wouldn't want you to know where my secret lair is."

"We left your so-called lair twenty minutes ago." Harry wrinkled his nose. "And you've been flying in circles since then, so I really have no idea where we are."

"You're perfectly right." Aegis laughed outright now. "I just like to see your face when you're complaining."

With a disgruntled huff, Harry pulled away one hand and pulled down the soft cloth which had been tied around his eyes so that it hung loosely around his neck. He glanced down; he spotted the circular expanse of the O2, a flash of white nestled against a curve of the Thames. It was gone in a moment as they flew west, towards the Ministry. Harry thought they were too far up to gain anyone's attention from the streets; he had an Invisibility Charm running right now, just in case. Harry returned his attention to the man who carried him now so easily; in addition to his mask, Aegis now sported a black cape with a deep cowl. He had a sort of strong sticking charm on it, for despite the strong wind generated by his flight, the mouth of the cowl didn't flip backwards. 

Aegis banked in the air and then descended, so fast that Harry's grip around his neck tightened reflexively.

"Don't pinch so," Aegis said. "Would I let you fall?"

"We've only been on a few dates," Harry said, primly. He loosened his hold a bit. "I still don't know your real name."

"Don't you?" Aegis landed in an alley, a few minutes away from the entrance to the Ministry. "And we're dating?"

"I see you on a regular basis, I try to find out more about you," Harry said as Aegis set him on his feet. He took out his wand and cancelled the Invisibility Charm. He paused; he could easily toss out a quick charm to pull off Aegis's cowl and mask, reveal his identity. Aegis was incredibly fast, but he was also very standing close, but… that didn't seem fair at all. He tucked his wand in its holster and quirked a smile up at him. "I'm in your arms enough times. At _least_ twice. That's known as romantic in some quarters."

Aegis looked down at him as he adjusted his damaged Auror cloak over his arm. Harry was just about average height, but Aegis stood more than a whole head taller than he did. The boots added to his height, and his muscular frame probably made him seem much larger than he did. Still, Harry had always had a thing for tall, strong people. Before he and Ginny had broken up, one of his favourite past-times was to stand up next to her, put his arms around her waist and rest his cheek against her bosom.

"You're right," Aegis finally said. "It _would_ seem as if we're dating."

"Then you should tell me who you are," Harry said, promptly. "So I can call the right name when I get off."

Aegis actually took a surprised step back at that and then laughed a little. "You continue to… surprise me." He raised a hand and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I need to go, so try not to get kidnapped on the way to the Ministry."

"Please," Harry scoffed. "I've been getting into trouble since I was eleven years old. I think I can manage a five minute walk."

Aegis reach out and placed a hand on Harry's recently healed shoulder. "I know. Just keep safe, Harry. And get this shoulder of yours checked out, yes?"

Harry reached up and gripped his wrist. Aegis could easily pull away if he wanted to, but he remained motionless. Slowly, Harry rubbed his thumb over the interlocking metal plates which covered Aegis's skin. He felt the thump of a pulse, faint but steady under that metal layer. Idly, he wondered if that plating went all the way. A metallic prick; _that_ would be interesting.

"We're going after the Shroudkeeper, soon," he heard himself say, referring to a member of the Collective. "So if you're going after her too, watch out for us."

"Oh. Thanks for telling me that." Aegis moved his hand away, very slowly, but Harry didn't let go. He simply slid his hand down and gripped Aegis's fingers. "I have to leave, you know," Aegis told him, even as he rotated his wrist so that they held each other's hands, properly. Harry stepped close to him, staring up into the shadowed depths of his cowl. He reached up with his free hand and stroked the strong column of Aegis's neck. Harry's fingers encountered the seam where the edge of Aegis's mask overlapped the collar of his top, and slipped his finger underneath it, pulling it up.

Aegis's fingers clenched his for a few painful beats.

"Wait, no… trust me," Harry whispered, and that powerful grip loosened. He dragged the mask up until it revealed Aegis's mouth and then removed his hand; the grip around his fingers loosened. He closed his eyes, tipped up his face and leaned in. He smiled as Aegis met him halfway, the coolness of his lips warming against Harry's mouth. Aegis parted his lips and Harry slipped his tongue inside; he didn't taste metallic at all.

Aegis pulled away, licking his lips. Dazed, Harry tugged his mask into place with fingers that trembled ever so slightly.

"For luck," he said. Aegis nodded jerkily and took a step back, holding up one hand. His silvery fingers twitched, and his own Invisibility Charm washed over him, erasing lines and colour until he was completely removed from Harry's sight. Only the quick sweep of dusty air indicated his departure. Harry nodded to himself and shrank his Auror cloak, placing it into the front pocket of his jeans. The walk to the Ministry was uneventful, just as he'd told Aegis. He tried to slide past the Auror Division to make his way to the labs, but as usual, he had no such luck.

"Potter," Head Auror Robards called from just inside the arched entry to the division. Harry swallowed and turned sharply turned on one heel.

"Sir," he answered, nodding in greeting. 

Robards took a long sip from the massive cup of tea in his left hand, his dark gaze heavy on Harry's face. "My office," he said, turning away even as he spoke. His thick white hair, caught up in that tight braid down his back, swung like a chain as he moved. Robards pushed open his door with the stump of his right arm, which had been struck with a wasting curse during Voldemort's raids; he rarely wore any of the magical prostheses offered. The Head Auror set down his tea on a small clear area of the parchment-strewn desk, shoved some of the papers to one side and sat down with a long sigh. 

"You didn't return with the other Auror teams," Robards pointed out as Harry took a seat in front of the desk. "I got reports that you were struck with a couple of Crossfire's hexes."

"Yes, sir." Harry pursed his lips briefly. "I received medical attention."

Robards raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair. It released a threatening squeak as he did so. "Yeah? Healers at St. Mungo's said you didn't show up today." He looked at Harry closely, as if searching for any injury. Harry couldn't blame him; he had just returned from a three-month long recovery, his lungs repairing slowly after his last run-in with the Collective.

"Aegis rendered assistance, sir," Harry admitted. Robards's eyebrows, which remained as black as his hair used to be, tilted in his craggy face. "He pulled me out of the skirmish."

" _Aegis_." Robards spoke the name with the air of deep mystification. "And who, pray tell, is Aegis?"

Harry didn't blush, not at all. "The Steel Mage, sir."

"Oh, the Steel Mage." Robards nodded slowly. "The same Steel Mage who's responsible for all the overtime for the Obliviators? _That_ one?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, keeping his tone neutral.

"Auror Potter," Robards began and his tone sharpened quickly, reminding Harry of Professor McGonagall before she started throwing detentions right and left. "You're assigned to detain this individual. That's what I _told you to do_."

"I know, sir," Harry cut in, before he could begin his acidic diatribe. "But… you have to admit, without Aegis, we'd be swamped by the Collective."

Robards rubbed at the rough, dark skin between his eyebrows. "Potter, I really have no problem admitting that, you know. But this person is flaunting the Statute of Secrecy, just like the Collective. We have to neutralize every single one of them."

Harry exhaled slowly. It was one thing to understand the duty of the Aurors, very well, but to see Aegis in action against the powerful members of the Collective was another thing completely. "I might have a clue, sir. I was on my way to the labs to get it looked at."

The Head Auror gazed at him tiredly for a very long time. "Very well." He didn't say anything else, just watched Harry as he got up and left. Harry paused outside the Head Auror's office, adjusting his damaged cloak over one arm. He wrinkled his nose at the pained twinge in his shoulder.

Robards' voice drifted out from the open door. "Potter. Make sure _you_ get looked at. For my peace of mind, at least."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied and made his way to the labs. He hooked a left at the end of the long, narrow corridor which led past the Auror Division, and walked through a heavy pair of grey double doors which swung open silently at his approach. He stopped just inside the door, taking in the wide space with the high ceilings. It was distinctly divided into two areas on either side of a wide walkway. Both areas had tall workstations, stools, differential analysers and electromechanical computing devices, protected from the majority of magical wavelengths by gleaming bubbles. However, one side was meticulously kept: materials were stored in large wooden bins underneath the workstations; small hand-held tools hung from hooks on the walls, out of the way; and the doors to the cabinets were closed, labels on the drawers noted with a firm, neat hand.

The other side appeared as if an exploding charm had gone off in the middle of it. Test-tubes and beakers were strewn across a paper-filled desk; some of the parchment had fluttered in the air when the doors had shut behind him. A small pile of charred rags were strewn on the floor below one of the workstations, and a featherless bird of indiscriminate gender and type eyed him from within a cage so large that it took up the entire top portion of the long wall on that side. 

"Hermione?" Harry called and she popped up from underneath a table on the untidy side, her hair on end, gripping what seemed to be a scalpel in one hand. Her eyes widened as she spotted him and she dropped the sharp-edged implement, clasping her hands with a relieved expression.

"Harry!" she yelled and the bird screeched; she flapped her hand at it. "Oh hush, Lenworth. It's just Harry, can't you see? Where have you _been_?"

"Oh," Harry said, once he realised that she'd been addressing him in the last portion of her sentence. "Been out Auroring, haven't I?"

She squinted at him. "The other Aurors came back after that raid, all of them. We were about to go out to look for you! But the clock said you were fine."

Harry turned and glanced at where an ornate clock hung over the door. The hand which had his name written on it was locking firmly on the curled golden letters which spelled _THE LABS_. He pursed his lips. There was a word which had not been there before now, at the four o'clock position: _SECURE_.

"That's where your name had been," a deep voice rumbled from behind them and Harry turned back to smile as Ron emerged from a small alcove on the orderly section of the labs, wiping his soot-covered arms. His sturdy black apron, like his side of the labs, was spotless. "We figured that the Steel Mage had you."

Harry bit back a secret smile. "Calls himself Aegis. Kind of cool, isn't it?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cloak, unshrinking it. "Ron, do you think you could fix this?"

"Let's have a look." Ron tutted over the ruined portion of the cloak, waving his wand slowly over it. "Yeah, I can fix it. Give me a mo'." He took a seat at his workbench and twirled his wand between the first and second fingers of his right hand until its thick brown shape blurred into that of a huge needle. He spelled some heavy thread into the eye and set it to repairing the cloth as he summoned a few dragon-scales and peered at the ragged ends of the damaged ones. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Hermione watching with interest. They ran the Auror labs together: Hermione dealt primarily with the evidence brought in by the field-agents, while Ron specialised in armaments. He'd even redesigned the wand-loading apparatuses which Aurors wore strapped to their forearms. 

As Ron patched up Harry's cloak, Harry turned to Hermione, pulling a vial out of his other pocket. Her attention snapped towards him, and her expression grew bright, almost greedy.

"A bit of evidence?" She cast a hovering spell, and the vial floated out of Harry's hand and over towards her. She mock-scowled at him, a familiar scold in regards to getting his prints over the evidence. "Where did you get it?"

"I took it from Aegis's hideout," Harry told her. His throat suddenly felt very tight with guilt. He had, of course, left a copy of this vial in the crumpled sheets of that bed in Aegis's abode. He was doing his job but it still felt wrong. "I was wondering if you could get anything from it." 

"But of course!" Hermione flittered back to her side, the vial hovering lazily in her wake. She shoved aside a pile of books and reaching for a large round glass-filled disc, bolted to an articulated arm on one side of its arc. It was a scry, and she looked through it as she extracted traces of potion from within the vial, using a slender pipette made of purified glass.

"He said he has a potioneer," Harry said, staying right where he was because Hermione hated when anyone hung over her shoulder while she did her work. "I thought maybe you could pull anything from it?"

"Already have." She gave him a wide, wild grin, waving the pipette in the air. "Every potioneer has their own way of combining ingredients, you see? Different methods in aligning the base to the additives. We've got nearly all the potions'-makers registered, so I can compare these results to what we've got on file."

"That's great." Harry nodded; Ron approached, and tossed the repaired cloak over Harry's shoulder. "Oh, thanks, Ron. Much appreciated, this."

"Stop getting in the line of fire, mate," Ron told him, even as he reached over and plucked the vial out of its listless hover. Hermione gave him a quick, assessing glance. A pair of bronze-framed goggles sat atop Ron's bright hair and he reached up, sliding it over his eyes. One of the lens telescoped out, almost touching the surface of the receptacle.

"Right," Hermione said to Harry, even as she considered Ron out of the corner of her eye. "So I'll get this sample into the centrifuge and—"

"No need for that." Ron pulled up his goggles, a small smile twitching under the heavy beard he sported these days. "There's an etching on the vial. A crest."

"Damn it," Hermione muttered. "Should have thought of that myself, _really_." Frowning, she reached into the messy bun set just off-centre of her head and retrieved a ten-galleon coin, tossing it at Ron. He caught it with a quick laugh, and Harry joined in his amusement. Harry was pleased that they were getting to be friends again.

"What's the crest?" Harry asked. Ron tugged off his goggles and handed it to him with the vial. When Harry looked through the lenses, he clearly saw finely-made marks, like ghostly lines in the glass. These lines resolved into the shape of a slender serpent, indolently curled around a capital _M_.

"Malfoy," Harry breathed. "His potion-maker is _Malfoy_."

\--

The hospital 'wing' reserved for Aurors was actually a tall, above-ground structure, located in a completely different site from St. Mungo's and only accessed by a secured Floo. Harry thought that it might be somewhere in West Berkshire, but he wasn't quite sure, and he never saw the need to ask, anyway. The wing was simply called Kentigern, and to be sent to the K was a very serious situation for any Auror.

Being in the K meant quite a few weeks in convalescence, at the very least. Harry floated up into consciousness now and again, noting the shadowy outlines of his friends and colleagues with dozy curiosity. He was aware that there were constant charms focused on his chest, regulating his breathing and blood-oxygenation while another struggled to cancel the curse which tried to convert Harry's lungs to solid rock. 

After a few days, the healing charm began to beat back the Stonelung Curse, triumphantly freeing alveoli in what Harry imagined to be rosy waves of healthiness. One by one, the supporting charms were removed, Healers monitoring him after each stage until they were satisfied that the next one could be disconnected. 

One night, before the second-to-last support charm was lifted, the metal man flew in through Harry's window.

"You shouldn't be here," Harry whispered, eyes wide as the superhero landed with a lightness which belied his height and strength. His cloak fluttered back, even as the hood remained in place. "How did you even get in here?"

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve," the man said, his voice amused. He stepped over to where Harry lay on the bed and brushed at Harry's hair, just the way he had done when he'd deposited Harry at the entrance to St. Mungo's. Harry frowned a little, his eyebrows tilting towards each other.

"You put a trace in my _hair_ ," Harry said, shaking his head at himself. There had been a slight shiver in the wards when he had been transported from St. Mungo's to the K, but apparently the intent behind the metal man's action had not been malicious enough to set off alarms. "Clever. And you don't even wear sleeves." He cast a lengthy stare on the man's attractive biceps; it seemed a bit impractical to Harry to have one's arms exposed in such a manner. Reinforced skin apparently transformed one's fashion choices.

The armoured man stood still for a few beats, head inclined towards Harry. The black hood had slipped back a few inches, and Harry could see his own reflection in the mirrored lenses of the man's mask. 

"By the way," the man finally murmured, "you should tell the other Aurors to improve their shields on this building. Anyone could just fly in."

"I suppose so," Harry said. His hand lay atop the covers and he turned it over so that his palm faced up. The man with the metallic skin seemed to look at his hand in bemusement. "Come on, I won't hex you."

The man hesitated and then stepped over, bending forward to slip his hand into Harry's. His hand was so large, metal skin cold against Harry's. "I half-expect that you'll throw manacles on me."

"I could," Harry said, smiling up at that masked face. He took a laboured inhale and tried a small smile. "If you're into that."

"You shouldn't--" the man started and then sighed. He tried again: "You shouldn't… trust me."

"Oh, of course." Harry nodded, with amused sagacity. "I can't see your face, so that's a negative… but on the other hand, you saved my life. Did I thank you for that?"

"You did." The man squeezed Harry's fingers, gently despite his apparent strength. His head snapped up, and he gazed towards the window as if someone had called his name. "I need to go."

"What?" Harry tried to sit up, but a knife-edge of pain carved a burning path through his lungs. He fell back against the pillows, wincing. "Wait, why?"

"Someone needs my help now," the metal-skinned man intoned. "I just wanted to see if you were alright, Harry Potter."

"How do you know someone needs your help?" Harry held onto his hand, actually enjoying the feel of those segmented silvery plates against his palm.

"A Taboo." The man's tone was absent. "When anyone within a certain radius calls for help, it pings back to me." He touched his temple with his free hand. "Right here."

Harry let him go, reluctantly, and watched as he strode towards the window. "What if they're playing around, you know, yelling 'help' and they don't really need it?"

The man stopped, one leg up on the low sill. He looked over his shoulder at Harry, masked face in shadows. "The Taboo takes care of that. It's all about the desperation within the words."

" _I_ didn't call for help," Harry pointed out, settling back against the pillows.

"You don't have to, Harry Potter," the steel-covered man said, an amused tinge to his voice. He jumped out the window, but not before saying: "You're always in trouble, anyway." 

Harry pouted at the window, but only the curtains responded with a light, sheer flutter. The man with the metal skin was gone. 

\--

Malfoy hauled open one of the massive double-doors and blinked like an unbalanced owl at Harry standing there on the front steps. His blond hair lay flat on one side of his head and stuck up in a wispy halo on the other. Harry stared back at him; the Malfoys had gone through the trials mostly unscathed, and he'd fully expected a house-elf to answer the door.

Malfoy wore a white, long-sleeved shirt; it was unbuttoned halfway, revealing a scrawny chest. He sported a pair of grey trousers and his long feet were bare. He squinted at Harry as if he knew Harry's face but couldn't quite place him and then his surprisingly dark eyebrows twitched upwards.

"Harry _Potter_ ," he said and swayed from side to side ever so slightly like a tall tree in a determined breeze. He had a bottle of wine in one hand and took a swig straight from it, eying Potter out of the corner of one red-rimmed eye even as he drank. "Here you are, made it to the party!" He said as soon as he managed to pull the bottle away from his mouth. His speech was slurred and the sharp scent of alcohol wafted into Harry's nostrils.

"I got that invite weeks ago, I think," Harry said, very evenly. He'd been surprised to receive the envelope, to say the very least, and had been quite astonished at the contents. "Unfortunately, I was ill at the time."

Malfoy made a face that seemed half commiserating, half mocking. Harry folded his arms behind his back and simply considered the man who was once a horridly persistent thorn in Harry's side; Malfoy was tall, but there was a reedy air about him, as if he had awoken incomplete this morning. Harry decided, quite firmly and suddenly, that he didn't hate Malfoy, despite everything.

"Well—" Malfoy started and then released a deep belch. "Whoops, my fucking manners, sorry. Right, see here, Potter. The party never ends at Chez Malfoy, _comprenez-vous_? Come in, don't stand there like you're selling something." He reached out and actually grabbed Harry's shoulder with a heavy, strong grip. Harry twitched, almost involuntarily yanking his shoulder out of Malfoy's touch; he didn't hate Malfoy these days, that was true, but he still had a very understandable aversion to being dragged inside the Manor. He would walk in of his own accord, when he was ready. Malfoy froze, then swayed some more.

"Right," he said in a breezy fashion and then turned on one heel, going back into the dimness of the foyer. "Close the door if you're coming in, Potter, give the heating charms a bit of a rest."

Harry slipped in after him, looking around with some surprise as the main entry clicked shut. The décor of the Manor had been transformed from the elaborate hangings, frescoes and layers of muted colours. Now, the walls of the entry-hall were painted in squares of hues so bright that they seemed to vibrate against each other. The carpets and heavy furniture had been dismissed, replaced by pieces that appeared to be both seating and works of art. Harry followed him towards another pair of large double-doors, the carved wings firmly holding back muted thumps of music. The doors swung open and a cacophony of music and excited chatter washed over him, nearly sweeping him off his feet. 

Draco Malfoy had apparently installed some sort of club in the middle of his house. It was dimly lit, and smoke-filled. The walls were covered with a silky, shiny material which billowed out like sails on a ship. Harry could hardly make out the features of the people dancing in the middle of the wide space, or those lounging at the comfortable-looking sofas, but he heard quite a few people shout his name in giddy greeting. He stood to one side, near the end of the bar and watched as Malfoy skittered from one group of persons to another, laughing when a woman put her arms around his waist and squeezed tightly.

"Will Harry Potter be having any drinks?" a cheery voice inquired from behind him. Harry turned to see a house-elf standing on a platform behind the bar, their long ears quivering in anticipation of his order. 

"No, thanks," he responded and the house-elf bobbed at him before scampering down the length of the platform to attend to someone else. Harry made his way over to where Malfoy now stood with yet another group, moving his narrow frame to the music in a vague approximation of dance.

"Malfoy, I'd like to talk to you for a moment," Harry had to bellow at him the moment he got close enough to Malfoy's orbit. "Somewhere quiet."

Malfoy's expression twisted into an ugly kind of impatience, though he didn't stop dancing. His narrow features seemed more pinched than ever. "I've permits from the Aurors to throw my parties," he said and did a jerky little shimmy: palms pressed just above knees, which were slightly bent, shoulders and bum twitching in rhythmic tandem. He resembled a dying frog.

"It's not about that," Harry shouted, and shook his head when Malfoy ignored him, still dancing. " _Malfoy_."

" _What_ ," Malfoy snapped, raising his arms above his head and twirling in a circle. "Potter, can't you see that I'm _dancing_."

Harry stared at him, experiencing an internal flash of flabbergasted annoyance. After the trials, Malfoy had disappeared into the Muggle world for a few years, sporting a tracking anklet so that the Aurors could keep tabs on him. Now and again, he had been checked by his assigned case-Auror, and his probation had passed without any indication of unacceptable behaviour. As soon as he had returned to the abandoned Manor, however, Malfoy had seemed intent on fulfilling the phrase _all party, all the time._

"Malfoy," Harry tried again, injecting a very sharp note into his voice. 

Malfoy stopped dancing and eyed Harry balefully. He took one very large step and was suddenly right in Harry's space, lower jaw jutting out pugnaciously. "You're not going to leave _or_ dance until you get your own way, won't you, Potter?" His reddened eyes stared fixedly. Harry didn't step back; he shook his head very slowly and Malfoy huffed out a very pained sigh. " _Typical_. Come on, then."

Harry trotted in the wake of Malfoy's long-legged and slightly wobbly stride. They made their way out of the ridiculous club, down a narrow corridor with cloth-covered portraits and then right into a small and surprisingly professional-looking office. An ornate floor lamp flared to life, casting rays of warm yellow light over an L-shaped desk and two plush chairs, their leather finish producing a gorgeously muted gleam. Shelves lined the room, with soldiered arrays of old books, and stacks of lace-edged parchment stored in wooden boxes. Harry glanced around as Malfoy flung himself into the armchair behind the desk. This was the space of an organized persona, not that of a man who seemed to celebrate all the time because he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.

"What's this about, Potter," Malfoy said in a flat yet grumpy manner. "Let's hurry this up, shall we?"

Harry reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, moving deliberately. Malfoy didn't seem perturbed. With a dull gaze, he watched Harry withdraw the empty vial. Harry tossed it towards him and it almost dropped to the carpeted floor on Malfoy's side. Malfoy caught it clumsily; he lurched sideways in his chair and reached out with a pained grunt, fingers fumbling over the smooth finish of the vial. As he straightened up, he gave Harry a withering glare.

"Recognise that?" Harry asked as he settled in the free chair. Malfoy held it up by its round base between one forefinger and thumb, looking at it out of the corner of one eye. "It's one of yours."

"Oh?" Malfoy turned it back and forth. "Well, I make potions. Good ones. I sell them to individuals and to companies, but these are facts which are well known by the Auror division, I hope."

"I got this one from Aegis," Harry told him and Malfoy's face creased in confusion. "The Steel Mage," Harry clarified and Malfoy actually _rolled his eyes_.

"Oh. _That_ idiot."

Harry bristled internally, pushing down a strong wave of affront on Aegis' behalf. "He's not an idiot," he said, hoping that he wasn't speaking through clenched teeth. "He's a hero. And he gets his potions from _you_."

"So he's not _that_ stupid." Malfoy's lips curled up into a sneer and he placed the vial atop the polished wood of the desk. It rolled a few times, and stopped. "Twenty points to House Metal."

"You know him," Harry said and Malfoy rolled his eyes again. "You've met with him, you give him the potions he needs… so you can tell me who he is."

Malfoy sighed in a put-upon fashion, and slumped so that his head lolled against the back of his armchair. "Potter, I've never met with that twit. Secret-agent style, prearranged pick-up points and so on."

Harry ruminated on this for a few beats, staring down at his own hands folded in his lap. When he glanced up back again, Malfoy appeared half-asleep, chin tucked down towards his chest.

"Malfoy?"

"Huh?" Malfoy jerked up and blinked rapidly. "Oh. You're still here."

Harry asked, "Do you make the potions that give him the metal skin? The strength and speed… the flight?" 

Malfoy held up his hands, palms out: _hold on, now_. "The kind of potions he gets from me are painkillers, and the like." He narrowed his eyes as he let his hands fall. "Let's have a little lesson in Potions, shall we? There's _nothing_ on the market now that can give you the kind of strength and speed that they say this Mage fellow has, all right? And if there _was_ , then it would have to be replenished every sixteen minutes or so, to accommodate the attrition to the musculoskeletal structure—"

"Right, _fine_ ," Harry cut in and shook his head slightly, trying to shake out all the unnecessary information which Malfoy had tried to lay on him just now. "So you don't know who he is."

"I don't _want_ to know, Potter," Malfoy said, with feeling. "I find I'm allergic to that particular brand of valour."

Harry levelled a very steady look at him. "But you're helping him, in a way. So technically, you're one of the good guys."

Malfoy's expression became intricate: a splash of aversion, with a healthy dose of nonchalance. "Well. Thought I'd give you fellows a chance." His lips twisted into a very cold smile.

Harry got to his feet, and adjusted his jacket with quick tugs to the hem. "Glad to have you on our side," he said smoothly, and Malfoy scowled.

"Are we done here?" he bit out. "I have a party to get to." He stared at Harry with his pale eyes shining in his thin face, his mouth now a tight line below his pointed nose. Harry twitched his shoulders once.

"We're done."

\--

For a few months after Harry's lungs had been damaged by that first major encounter with the Walpurgis Collective, he was placed off-duty and ordered to rest. That, of course, did not stop him from perusing nearly every article he could find about the Steel Mage. Both Muggle and Magical worlds were abuzz with news about him.

_THE NEXT GENERATION OF HERO!_ The _Prophet_ proclaimed. _BETTER THAN THE BOY-WHO-LIVED-TWICE??_

"One day they'll get around to calling you a man," Ron had said as he'd puttered around the largest bedroom of Harry's flat, poking through the rubbish-items that Harry liked to pick up off the road, like a magpie; the shinier, the better. Harry liked to think he could fix the broken things. Mostly, Ron was the one who ended up repairing them, like the small black box with the fluted silver horn sticking out of the top of it. It was a chatterbox, Ron had said; it spouted either wise insights or horrible insults, apparently via on a randomizing charm.

"They'll _never_ call you a man," the chatterbox told Harry from its post on the night-table on the left side of his bed. "You'll always be a whinging little _piss_."

Harry ignored it to cut the article out of the Prophet, by hand. He carefully went around the words with the scissors, inhaling and exhaling slowly, retraining his lungs to their full capacity. It was painful work; his hands shook and his chest wheezed.

"Aw, are you going to put that in your ickle scrapbook?" Ron said, his tone absently fond as he turned over a tiny polyhedral frame which expanded and contracted in his palm when he poked at it, using his smallest screwdriver with the glowing tip.

"Yeah, just like you did with the one you had for Krum," Harry retorted, gluing it into his large, ring-bound book. Ron had scoffed, and then hummed in interest when the multi-coloured frame tumbled over and changed its number of sides.

"Oh yeah!" Hermione had exclaimed with a laugh, the day after that particular visit from Ron. They tended to stagger their times; their recent break-up had been calm, and hurtful. Her laugh had a tight quality to it as she checked Harry's tonics. "I remember the Krum scrapbook."

"Good times, yeah?" Harry had said, hoping the smile didn't look as sad on his face as it felt. She sat at the foot of his bed and patted his ankle underneath the throw which Molly had made for him.

"They won't be back again," the chatterbox had said, mournfully. "They were the best and _you can't go back_."

"Do you have a crush on the Steel Mage?" Hermione had asked, having picked up his scrapbook and flipping through it. "Like the one you had on the Half-Blood Prince?"

"Maybe," Harry had said, leaning forward to take the book out of her hands. He clutched it at his chest and wrinkled his nose at her as she laughed at him some more. 

"You _do_ remember who the Half-Blood Prince turned out to be, right?" Hermione had said, her expression caught between amusement and concern. 

Harry shrugged, a half-smile on his lips. "Yeah," he said. "But the Steel Mage can't be anyone I know." 

\--

The operation to capture Shroudkeeper and any of her associates was spread out over four separate divisions: the Hitwizards, with the support of the Aurors, the Obliviators and the Unspeakables.

"We're running defence for the Hitwizards," Head Auror Robards said in the ready-room, his dark gaze landing lightly on each member of the assigned team from the Aurors. As they suited up, pulling on protective gear covered with layers of repelling charms, Ron checked everyone's cloaks and ensured that their communication-amulets were intact and transmitting. 

"Radio-check, Harry," Ron said with a smile as he tested Harry's amulet, pinned to the inside of his shirt. Feedback intruded rudely into Harry's hearing: it emanated from the spiral of silver which coiled around his ear, connected to the amulet by a charm; that spiral served as both the microphone and the receiver. Ron built and tested each one, coding them to the magical-signature of the user. Harry winced at the whine of the feedback and gave Ron a mock-glare.

Ron made some adjustment and winked at him. "You're good, mate," he said and slapped Harry's shoulder in his brisk way. As he moved on to the next Auror, Hermione bustled in his wake, popping vials of potions into the loops of Harry's belt.

"Blood-replenishment, anti-venom, bit of dittany," she muttered under her breath and straightened up to give Harry a solemn gaze. "You be careful."

"I will," Harry said, very quietly. She smiled at him and moved onto the next Auror. Head Auror Robards loomed over him and Harry eyed him, adjusting the fastenings of his boots by hand.

"I had half a mind to make you stay in the mobile command center, and run the communication interface for our team," Robards rumbled and he held up his hand as Harry opened his mouth to protest. "I'm well aware that you got a clean bill of health from the medics, and your combat-assessment last week was favourable. But you have the knack of getting yourself into trouble."

"I've been told," Harry said, wryly and got to his feet, swinging his cloak around his shoulders. "But that's what being an Auror is all about, right, sir?"

"For some more than others." Robards stared at him for a long, heavy beat. "We're out for the Collective, Potter. But if we see the Steel Mage, it's part of the mission to take him down as well."

Harry kept himself very still and answered, "Understood, sir."

Robards seemed unconvinced, but he led them out into the training yard, where a small, battered moving-truck sat idling; Auror trainees stood some distance away, obviously agog at the spectacle. The words REDBIRD MOVERS were painted in brown letters against the pale-yellow background. One of the doors to the back swung open and Harry climbed in with the other Aurors, encountering a massive wizardspace created for the mobile command unit. 

"Head Auror Robards," a Hitwizard called out as the doors shut, the shoulders of her black uniform displaying the numerous stripes which indicated her rank of commanding officer; her hair was caught up in a taut style, bands of white streaking though the shining back strands. About fifteen hitwizards stood behind her, their gazes blank. To the left, a gaggle of Unspeakables rushed from one metal work-table to the next, casting locating charms and double-checking scry-glasses. Ghostly projections of the city hovered over the tables, shifting in scale and location in response to the flick of a finger. Small red lights, like pinpricks in the projections, pulsed ominously over sites of significance. A large group of Obliviators sat on a few benches to the right, and all of their shoulders seemed to slump at the same angle.

"Commander Katakura," Robards responded and inclined his head back to the twenty Aurors behind him. "My team's ready for your orders."

"Good." Commander Jean Katakura's sharp gaze seemed to encompass them all. "Our intel is that there's going to be an attack on one of the bridges, at about 1700 hours."

Harry checked the time with a quick little spell; the hovering numbers informed him that 1700 was a little over an hour from now. 

"We're not sure _which_ bridge," Katakura continued. She held her shoulders rigidly, slender arms folded behind her back. "But we can Apparate this mobile unit to the location as required."

Harry arched an eyebrow, as an air of smug competence emanated from the Hitwizards. The Unspeakables paused in their rush.

" _We_ developed that," one of them called, and the flurry of activity started up again. 

Katakura wrinkled her small nose. "I'll send in the Hitwizards as the attacking unit," she said. "I need the Aurors to be in charge of keeping Muggles and Wizarding civilians out of our way. Obliviator Mahuiki?"

A large man in the midst of the Obliviator group looked at her, his gaze slipping across the space without shifting his head. He had a stony face covered with scarred brown skin, and half-lidded eyes.

"Your team will be supported by the Aurors," she told him. He grunted softly and slumped a little more in his seat, closing his eyes. "Unspeakables are in charge of information assessment and dissemination. We'll start at—"

"We'll start _right now_!" one of the Unspeakables shouted urgently. "Intercepting multiple Muggle reports of a terrorist attack on Blackfriars."

Katakura spun on her heel, holding out her arms. The other Hitwizards had formed a circle even before she had turned around, gripping each other's gloved hands. As soon as Katakura completed the circle, the entire mobile center seemed to squash down onto itself, yet the thick walls didn't move to crush them. Instead, it moved violently towards the left. Beside Harry, Auror Cunningham stumbled backwards; he gripped her elbow and hauled her upright.

"Thanks," she said as the squashed sensation faded away. "Could've warned us, yeah?"

"We've got five hostiles!" An Unspeakable yelled. "Middle of the bridge, Muggles involved!"

The back doors flew open and the Hitwizards mounted their brooms, zooming out so fast that the displaced air ricocheted around the space of the command unit. As Harry prepared to exit with the Aurors and the Obliviators, he watched an Unspeakable sweep his hand over one of the projections of the city, the map spinning obediently underneath his palm.

"Casting localized hex," that Unspeakable intoned, and his voice doubled in Harry's ear, transmitted almost simultaneously by the amulet. He raised his wand and waved it slowly over the projection: a pulse of magic emanated from his station. "Disabling all recording devices within a ninety yard radius. Accessing police scanners."

Harry felt a rush of pride for Hermione; she had invented that hex, to temporarily mangle both digital and analogue recording. It didn't have that much of a spread, but it had proved to be extremely helpful in maintaining the Statute of Secrecy.

"Copy that," Katakura's voice responded flatly; the wind on her end would have been a scream of noise, but Ron had designed his amulets well. "Engaging hostiles now."

"Aurors deployed," Robards added, motioning to his team, even as Mahuiki added in his gravel-filled voice: "Obliviators deployed."

Harry raced out, jumping out of the back of the truck. As trained, the teams divided into smaller groups. The moving-truck had stopped just in front of St. Paul's Cathedral, up on the sidewalk. Aurors and Obliviators were already wading through the traffic, slowing the vehicles with charms. From where he stood, Harry could see a dark mist hovering over Blackfriars Bridge. He gripped his wand tightly and took a step forward, intending to sprint across the road towards the pier.

"What _is_ that?" someone asked beside him and Harry turned to see an elderly man gazing towards the smoky shadow, a gnarled hand shading his eyes. "Did someone crash?"

"There's been an incident, sir," an Obliviator said as she jogged past. She pointed her wand at the old man. "Maybe you should go home right now, have a bit of a lie-down."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful," the man said and toddled off in the opposite direction from the bridge. The Obliviator gave Harry a quick, tired glance.

"One down," she said. "About a million more to go." She bolted across the road and headed along the underpass. An explosion cracked through the air, from the bridge. Along the road, windows shattered, and a rain of sharp glass descended onto the road and sidewalk.

Harry flung out his arm, wand held steady. " _Protego_!" he shouted and that translucent, protective bubble sprang up over the cars and pedestrians nearest to him; the shards bounced off the surface of the bubble, glittering in the afternoon light. Distantly, he heard the screams of those who had been outside his shield.

"Shit," he muttered and another explosion responded to his expletive. He headed across the road, jumping over the metal barriers and navigating the line of immobilized traffic. In his ear, the communicator transmitted the continuous shouts of the Wizarding team. From what he could hear over the comms, the Shroudkeeper was on the bridge, although the smoky cloud was not her doing; the Obliviators had created that in an attempt to obscure the operation from the Muggles. She had four large beings with her, what appeared to be golems. One of them spewed fire; another, ice; the third, waves of water and the fourth just stood there, impassive to the assault of the Hitwizards.

"We can't get the light-nets close enough to the Shroudkeeper," Katakura spat, as Harry made his way to where the bridge became the main road. "She's got nine or ten hostages with her. Seven of my operatives are down, requesting Auror backup and Apparition."

"Auror backup en-route," Robards answered tersely. "Cunningham, Jensen, Tracey, Allen, Nilson, Potter, get your arses close, we need to move the injured Hitwizards."

"On it," Harry said, still running; he'd had extra training as a field medic, taught to stabilize wounded bodies and traumatized magic until the wounded were transported to St. Mungo's and the K. Near the end of the bridge, just outside that smoke-filled zone, one of the Hitwizards lay sprawled on the ground, twitching. Harry and Tracey reached him at the same time. 

"I've got him, Potter," Tracey said, his voice breathless as he kneeled down, pressing one of his palms to the gaping wound in the Hitwizard's chest, while going through his belt-loops for the dittany Hermione had placed there. Tracey was a tall, skinny fellow with a shock of prematurely grey hair; his narrow cheeks were ashen, but his movements were quick and steady. "I'll take him over."

Harry nodded and hurled himself towards the Obliviator's smoke-screen. A silvery shape flitted over the murky surface of the river to his left and someone cried, "It's him! The Silverman!"

 _The Silverman_ , Harry thought, squinting through the curtain of darkness created by the screen. _That's the worst one yet_.

"All units, be advised," an Unspeakable reported. "Target known as the Steel Mage is on location."

Harry knelt beside another downed Hitwizard; this one lay stiffly on her back, eyes staring wide up into the dimness. He checked her pulse and felt its distant struggle. Her magic flickered weakly against his touch. Something crashed onto the surface of the bridge, and the bridge creaked worryingly. Harry did his best to stabilize the Hitwizard and then concentrated on St. Mungo's. The Hitwizard flinched even though he tried to transport her as gently as he could in the little room reserved for the apparition of Aurors; three emergency mediwizards burst in, and Harry stepped back out of their way, watching as they cast their support spells over her still frame.

Harry inhaled and exhaled rapidly a few times, testing his recently-healed lungs; they felt fine. He Apparated back to the bridge, aiming to land just about the same place from which he'd left. He jogged forward, squinting around in a search for any other Hitwizard and pushing down his urge to find Aegis.

The gloom cleared with a suddenness that was disconcerting, and he realised that he'd stepped right into the edge of the true action, that which the Obliviators worked so desperately to hide from the rest of the city; the cloud of concealing mist towered overhead, surrounding this relatively small area. Clearly, he could see the Shroudkeeper standing there at the other side of the mist's eye, surrounded by the rocky forms of the golems. She was a very tiny woman, dressed in simple robes. Murky strips of darkness curled out from her slender frame: some of them wrapped around Muggle hostages, keeping them close, while others lashed out at the Hitwizards who rushed at her from atop their brooms. The shadows blocked all their attacking spells. Discarded webs lay strewn across the road, the failed light-nets. The Shroudkeeper had a bright expression on her small, dark face, as if highly entertained by the proceedings.

Two of the golems lay in pieces on the surface of the road. Aegis struggled with another, the one which emitted fire. It roared into Aegis' masked face, releasing a bright banner of flame for a few seconds before powerful, silvered hands grabbed its head and ripped it from the dune-coloured shoulders.

Aegis staggered back as the golem collapsed into a pile of stony junk. His cloak was tattered, but the rest of his costume seemed intact. 

"You are powerful," the Shroudkeeper observed in a chirping little voice. "Are you _sure_ you're on the right side?"

"I think I can make out for myself which side is the right one," Aegis responded, and he moved towards her with that astounding speed of his, a blur of silver. Yet, the last golem stepped in his way, just as fast as Aegis could move. Its left arm melted into a long, flat shape, and hardened immediately into a sword. It slashed out at Aegis and grabbed him by the neck when he lunged to the side, lifting him off the ground. 

"You don't have to be their hero," the Shroudkeeper said as the golem's thick fingers squeezed. "You can be their _god_."

Harry lifted his wand and murmured the spell which created a set of glowing, concentric circles to hover at the tip of his wand; a targeting charm, and it helped focus his next spell in precisely the spot he needed. " _Confringo!_ " 

The ball of fire exploded out of his wand and flashed towards the golem's arm, striking the joint of its elbow. It stumbled a few steps, but did not release its hold on Aegis.

"Potter! _Do not engage_!" Robards roared in his ear, and Harry ignored him.

" _Expulso_!" he tried and the targeting charm did its duty; this spell struck the exact place, and a large crack appeared in the surface of the golem's arm. Not quite the result Harry had expected, but its grip loosened considerably, and Aegis pulled free. One of the Shroudkeeper's sentient shades hurled itself towards Harry and he dodged it, ending up close to where Aegis drove back the guardian-golem with rapid punches to its torso. The golem bellowed and raised its normal hand, striking Aegis' head. He spun around at the force of the blow, and the mirrored lens over his left eye shattered. Aegis collapsed to his hands and knees, gasping. The golem slowly raised its sword-arm high over its head, describing the start of an arc which would terminate at the back of the Steel Mage's neck.

Harry's adrenaline-fueled vision focused on the ground between the Shroudkeeper and her golem. A shadow linked them both. 

_Her shadows don't just protect her. They also control the golems_. As that thought flooded his head, Katakura spoke urgently: "Auror Potter," she said and her tone felt sharp enough to cut iron. "You have a light-net right next to you. I need you to reactivate it, get it close to her."

"Copy that." Harry threw himself towards the closest tangle of metal links on the ground, pointing his wand to the center of the pile. He twirled his wand in rapid circles, to deliberately over-charge the next spell. " _Lumos_ ," he chanted and the colour of the light which shot out of the end of his wand was a burning scarlet. The light-net blazed to life as soon as the _Lumos_ hit it, and he grabbed it in both hands. The golem began to bring down its sword-arm, distressingly swift.

Harry flung the light-net with a desperate strength, and the Shroudkeeper yelled wordlessly, some of her shadows racing towards him. The net landed right between her and the guardian-golem, dispelling the controlling shadow. The golem froze, rocky structure shuddering. All the shadows hesitated, twitching uncertainly and the Shroudkeeper shrieked again. Harry glanced over at her; the Hitwizards had finally gotten close enough to throw another light-net right over her head, removing her link to the shadows. As the shadows dissipated, the hostages fell to the hard ground, some of them releasing screams of fear and pain.

Aegis stood up, swaying from one side to the other. Harry ran over to him, noting with some alarm that those muscular arms had lost their metal plating; they looked _normal_. Aegis took one stumbling step back and Harry caught him around the waist, grunting at the bulk. 

"What's happened to you?" Harry asked, struggling to keep them both upright. "You're not metal anymore."

Aegis shook his head as if clearing it of ethereal cobwebs, and managed to straighten up, taking his weight off Harry's arms.

"I've just lost my concentration," he murmured. "Give me a moment." He took a deep, shaky breath and then exhaled slowly. As he breathed out, the armoured surface returned, moving like a wave up his arms, metal plates locking into place.

"Does the metal cover you all over?" Harry asked, his worry bleeding away, and leaving flirtatious giddiness in its place. Aegis turned his head to give Harry a _look_ , and Harry's breath caught in his throat. Very clearly, through the broken lens, he could see Aegis' eye.

"Harry Potter, you are incorrigible," Aegis said heavily and then he tilted his head. "Are _you_ alright?"

"Yeah," Harry said, voice faint. "I'm well."

"Good." Aegis turned away, facing the golem; it still had its arms up for a killing blow. He stepped very close and contemplated its fixed expression. "This one nearly got me," he said and drew back his fist, his body drawn as tight as a bow. For a few beats, Aegis just stood there and then he let his hand fall. His broad shoulders slumped, and his chest moved in exhausted breaths. "But it was not of its own doing."

In his ear, Harry heard the chattering between the Wizarding teams. He tapped the amulet on the inside of his shirt, pausing the communication-spell. "You have to go, Aegis."

The superhero nodded; out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Commander Katakura watching them from some distance away. Aegis reached out and took Harry's hand; he squeezed Harry's fingers very gently and released them, taking off without another word. When Harry turned on his amulet again, he heard Head Auror Robards' abrupt tones.

"…Potter, you'd _better answer me_ , so help me, Merlin—"

"I'm here, sir," Harry answered and Robards went very silent for a few beats. Around them, Aurors and Hitwizards attended to the freed Muggles. The Obliviators maintained the cloud-screen.

"I suppose you're going to tell me that the Steel Mage hasn't been captured." The Head Auror's voice was an odd mixture of relief and displeasure. Harry opened his mouth to answer.

"He managed to evade us all, Head Auror," Katakura cut in before Harry could say anything. "We'll go after him another time."

As Robards grumbled over the comm, Katakura gave Harry a sideways look. She approached, patting her own chest to disconnect from the communications network.

"Thank you, Auror Potter," she said. "And maybe you can thank your friend as well."

Harry nodded very slowly. "I'll try."

The debriefing for the mission was short-lived; one of the Hitwizards injured was still in critical condition, and the prognosis was not hopeful. At that bit of information, Commander Katakura's face became a blank mask. The Shroudkeeper was sent to a magically reinforced chamber in the Ministry which neutralised her powers, and awaited questioning.

Harry feared that he'd be kept behind by Robards for a solid lecture, but to his surprise, the Head Auror waved him away in that irritable manner of his. Harry sent a note to Ron and Hermione's lab, the folded missive informing them that he was fine, and he was heading home to rest.

Yet, instead of going home, Harry went to the Malfoy Manor. Yet again, Malfoy answered the door and again, he appeared as if he had been drinking all day. At least, he _smelled_ that way; the shrill aroma of alcohol stormed insistently into Harry's nostrils.

"Potter," Malfoy said, drawing out the sound of the last letter and snickering. His red eyes rolled with hilarity. Harry didn't say a word; he stepped up into the Manor, right into Malfoy's space. Malfoy scowled at him and took a step back into the foyer, but Harry kept moving forward. Another step, like a dance, and the door swung shut behind them.

"Stop," Harry said, not unkindly, his gaze locked with Malfoy's. "Just stop."

Malfoy stopped. Harry pressed right against his taller body and Malfoy's eyes narrowed.

"Potter, what the _hell_ do you think you're playing at?" His voice was now remarkably steady.

"Not so drunk right now, aren't you?" Harry observed. He raised his hands, moving slowly so that Malfoy could see what he was doing, and then placed his hands so Malfoy's face so that they obscured most of his features, except for one: his eye.

The left one, to be exact. 

"I've known your eyes since I was eleven years old," Harry said, not moving his hands. Malfoy's chest moved rapidly against his. "We've been in close quarters more than once, haven't we? Schoolboy scraps and so on."

Malfoy remained silent.

"Answer me," Harry urged and Malfoy snapped out, " _Yes_ , damn it. So we have."

"Remove the glamour," Harry said. He slid his eyes down to Malfoy's shoulders, watching as the red edges of his eyes disappeared. The reek of alcohol also vanished; he also seemed taller, wider in the shoulders. Harry nodded. "Now: show me Aegis."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Potter," Malfoy said in a low and unconvincing manner. His hands were also now resting on Harry's hips. They felt very good there. 

"Come now," Harry told him and gave him a light yet stern shake. "Go on with you."

Malfoy sighed, as if Harry had been bothering him about this for _days_ , and then a metallic flush swept over his face. Aegis stood in front of him now, skin gleaming in the low light of the vestibule. Even his hair was transformed into slender metal strands.

"What now?" Aegis, Malfoy, _Draco_ asked, head tilted to one side. His mouth very close to Harry's.

"I don't know," Harry said. "But I do know we really need you out there."

Malfoy blinked very slowly and Harry couldn't help himself. He pressed his lips to Malfoy's and the coolness of his skin warmed against Harry's. Malfoy kissed him back, hungry licks into Harry's mouth. He groaned against Harry's lips and the hard lines of their cocks rubbed against each other.

"I also know that I'd love to see if your prick is metallic too," Harry murmured and Malfoy laughed, incredulously, against his jaw. "But you still have some explaining to do."

\--

Harry knew he was being followed; he'd left St. Mungo's a few hours ago, his last check-up deemed extremely positive by the Healer in charge of Aurors.

"I'll send word to Head Auror Robards," Healer Christenson said with a weary smile on his broad, ruddy face. "You can go back on active duty in a few days."

"That's great to hear," Harry had said, with feeling. He'd been going a bit mad in his flat, puttering around from wall to wall as his lungs had healed. Now, he wandered about in Diagon Alley, just enjoying a bit of a walk before going home. He got stares, and a few people stopped him for fervent little chats, but his trained instincts informed him that someone was trailing him as he idled past the storefronts.

He knew there was an alley coming up, which separated two shops. He paused just before he got to it, his nerves reverberating. There was no-one walking in his direction now. He clenched his right wrist; his wand slid out of its holster and into his hand.

"It's me," a familiar voice called from out of the alley and Harry took a step forward, peering around the corner. A cloaked man stood towards the other end of the alley. This man reached up and pulled back the hood of his cloak, revealing his masked face.

"Aegis," Harry breathed and stepped into the alley, glancing around to ensure they were alone. "What are you--"

"I was…" Aegis hesitated. "Just checking. If you were alright." He sounded as if he was asking himself a few important mental questions.

"I'm doing well." Harry re-holstered his wand and grinned. "I'll be on duty again, soon. Trying to find your true identity. Fair warning, right?"

"Best of luck with that," Aegis retorted, but he sounded oddly serious despite their light banter. "Well. I'll just be—"

"Wait." Harry held out his hand, as if he could stop Aegis with the power of his mind. Maybe there was something to that, because Aegis stood still, face turned towards him. "Tell me something. How did you get this way?"

" _How_?" Aegis echoed. He sounded mystified at the question.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I mean… why do you do all this? How did you get to this point?"

"Fear," Aegis answered immediately. His mask was impassive, but emotion weighed his voice. " _Fear_ , Harry… and bit of self-loathing, too." 

\--

Draco seemed hesitant to take Harry to bed… at first.

"I really want you to," Harry told him more than once and eventually had to locate a bedroom himself, guest-quarters on the main floor. "Is there a problem?" Harry asked as he led Draco in, as if _he_ was the one who lived at the Manor.

"No," Draco said, quietly. "I'm just trying to absorb what's going on here." His skin was normal now, and his cheeks were flushed, lips red from their kiss.

"But if you don't want anything to happen, we can just—" Harry broke off as Draco surged forward, wrapping his arms around his waist. Harry went up on his toes, throwing his arms around Draco's neck. "Take me to bed," Harry said against his mouth. "As in, carry me. I'm suddenly into that."

"Are you _serious_ ," Draco said, tone sharpening to a very familiar level of snark. He lifted Harry, carrying him in his arms as easily as he would lift a kitten. "I do hope you're not going to make a habit of this."

Harry wrinkled his nose, pretending to consider. "I'm enjoying this too much to make any promises." 

Draco dumped him on the soft surface of the bed. Harry scrambled back, staring wide-eyed at Draco as he crawled after, stopping to kneel between Harry's splayed legs. Draco reached down and unbuttoned Harry's shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. Harry helped shrug it off and reached out to return the favour, revealing miles of pale, unmarked skin.

"A potion of mine gone wrong. Or right, I suppose," Draco said as Harry trailed his fingers down his chest. "That's how I got the armour. And all the other things."

Harry stroked around one pink nipple and then went up on one elbow to fit his mouth over it, flicking the hardening nub with his tongue. Draco's breath hitched and one of his big hands cupped the back of Harry's head; not trapping him there, but just carding his fingers through Harry's thick strands. Harry switched to the other one, sucking hungrily. When he pulled back and glanced up, Draco stared back at him with his pupils blown wide. 

"So what was all that you told me?" Harry squirmed up, pulling up his knees and pressing the insides of his thighs against the outside of Draco's legs. "That there are no potions on the market that make you Aegis?"

"That's the truth." Draco leaned down, placing kisses on Harry's shoulder. "There's nothing on the market right now. I don't think I can even reproduce that potion again. Maybe I don't want to."

Harry, still up on his elbows, tilted his head back so that Draco could lick the column of his neck. "You made it… because?" He found it hard to think, with Draco's mouth on his skin, with the knowledge of all that restrained power over him.

"I told you," Draco said against his other shoulder. "Fear."

Harry pushed at his chest and Draco drew back, a line of concern forming between his eyebrows. Harry kept pushing and Draco went back even more, that furrow on his brow clearing up when Harry finally got them both over so that he could straddle Draco.

Harry pressed his fists into the bed on either side of Draco's head, looking down into his face. "What were you afraid of?" he asked.

"Everything." Draco's gaze was direct and turned inwards at the same time. "After the trials, I knew I'd failed at everything. I was helpless and I couldn't do anything about it. But if I'm good at _one_ _thing_ , it's Potions. I thought…" he sighed. "I don't even know what I thought. I just didn't want to feel like that anymore. I wanted to be… unbreakable."

"But you went into the Muggle world," Harry said, touching his hair. It was soft and fine; he'd never thought he would have been touching Draco Malfoy's hair like this. In a way, this was a Draco he didn't really know. "That was brave of you."

"I'd gotten the armour by then," Draco said, his voice now so low that Harry almost couldn't hear him. It was like he was relating the story to himself. "And then the Collective started to attack and it was like… it was _him_ , all over again, but I wasn't helpless anymore." His lips thinned. "I've been wrong all my life, about Muggles, about _you_ , and about myself. And I was tired of it."

Harry stared down at him, lips parted. Draco gave him a very tiny smirk.

"But I think my party persona is sufficient to hide who I am now. What do you think, Potter?"

Harry showed him exactly what he thought. He removed the rest of their clothing with a hasty spell, kissing every part of Draco's skin he could reach. Draco's hands roamed his back, his thighs, touching his cock and balls with leisurely contemplation. Harry tried to breathe deeply as they both worked at fingering him open, slick dripping between their hands; it was all he could do to stop himself from coming right then.

Draco watched him with half-closed eyes as Harry sank down on his slippery, hot length, moaning at the hot feel of it. Harry closed his eyes and tipped his head back when he finally had that cock fully inside, throbbing and stretching him farther than he'd thought he would be able to take. 

"Tight," Draco murmured from beneath him and Harry smiled, not opening his eyes. He jumped a little when the cock inside him went _chilly,_ and opened his eyes to find a silver-skinned Draco leering up at him.

"Metal all the way," he told Harry. "Satisfied now?"

In response, Harry leaned down, clenching around Draco's prick as he kissed him deeply. He rocked back and forth, gripping Draco's armoured shoulders, sweat slipping between his shoulder-blades, down the cradle of his hips and in the crease of his thighs. He felt his orgasm creep up on him and he stopped, panting shakily, reaching down to grip the base of his prick.

"Shit," Draco murmured, and flipped them over so fast that Harry's head spun. Draco's prick slid out of him during that manoeuvre and they both gasped as he pushed right back into Harry's slick tightness. He moved over Harry, in him, quickening pulses of their bodies until Harry felt as if he was flying like Aegis. He came just before Draco did, fingers slipping on the expanse of metal, shuddering mindlessly.

"You shouldn't be afraid anymore," Harry said, drowsily some time later as Draco stretched out beside him on the bed. He had been placed under the covers, and his bum felt all dry, but he had no recollection of when all that had happened. "I'll be afraid for you, if you want."

There was silence and Draco said, "That sounds nice."

\--

"Why does Malfoy have a club in his house?" Ron grumbled, folded up in the corner of their booth in the same way a Kneazle would hide in a dark corner. "I mean, it's not bad… but _why_?"

"Does it matter why?" Harry sipped at his drink, rocking a little to the music. "Maybe it's a good way to forget what happened here, you know?"

Across from them in the booth, Hermione sat with her back rigid, gaze flickering around the crowded club. "Can't forget a thing like _that_ ," she said, prim as usual but there was a strangled note in the way she spoke. Ron reached over and gave her hand a quick, friendly pat.

"Maybe not _forget_ ," he said, and gave Harry a stern look. Harry nodded in quick agreement, a little appalled at himself.

"Right, not _forget_ ," Harry said. "But maybe change it for the better." He smiled at her and after a pause, she smiled in return. Then, she jumped as Malfoy collapsed atop their table, giggling soddenly.

"The Tolden Grio!" he yelled and then rolled over, spilling his drink all over the place. "Golden Trio, I mean! Finally accepted my invitation!"

"Thanks for inviting us," Ron said, aiming for cool sarcasm and landing somewhere near bemusement. "Nice club."

Malfoy nodded slowly, his hair soaking in the puddle of libation spreading over the wooden surface. "Isn't it?" He opened his mouth to say something else and a strange expression flitted across his sharp features… as if he had heard someone call his name.

"I have to go!" he sang out cheerily and slid down the edge of the table to the floor, then crawling off into the crowd. "Bye, Gryffindorks."

"Hey," Harry said and Malfoy stopped where he was, using someone nearby as a ladder to pull himself upright. "Don't have too much fun, now."

"Oh, Potter," Malfoy said, weaving away with a sort of imbalanced dignity. "There is no such thing as _too much fun_."

"Bit of a mess, isn't he?" Hermione observed and then sipped at her drink. Harry noticed that her shoulders seemed much more relaxed.

"I suppose," he said and rocked even more to the music. "But maybe we need a bit of a mess, sometimes."

"Doubt it," Ron said and poked Harry in the side for laughing so hard.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> If so inclined, please leave a comment here or at [LiveJournal](http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/276048.html). Comments are ♥.


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